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Whole lotta love goin on
In da middle of what? Say what? What's goin on? I leave em home alone Dey turned into danger zones Studio shootouts, leavin no doubt In da eyes of the wise About the other guys Fantasi n gettin nat rep Makin you move While they disturb the groove Now the partys over ooops! Outta time Yo my brother can you spare a crime Some wanna take me out I even call em my own (can't we all just get along? ) Rap iz a contact sport Can I get support When I hum to da maximum What I talk is straight From da sidewalk strong The velt new york 112 beatz a minute An I'm flowin in it Have no mercy On da ones that curse me And when I'm in da paint The feuding might be over But the fussin aint Some hate the way I say em Cause I block em like Zo to da am Beginning of an end of an error Incredible shrinking race Fiend without a face Still got love for em But some ain't got love For the rest of us So my boys get iller than Illinois (terminator) Return to da noise I'd rather fall off Than fall victim of crime And a low percentage rhyme If I go down they goin wit me So come and get me...c'mon |
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Intro: Chuck D, Flavor Flav Aight {aight}, aight, aight {aight}, aight {aight} I'm aight if you aight {I'm aight} I be better - get some of that bass {word, give it up} aight, yeah [Rinkin twinkin body shakin Nuffattackin brain's a rackin Clock tockin Chuck shockin Flavor Flav ain't never shavin] (one, two, three four) Verse One: Chuck D It's another record, check it, mad methods To put my brothers and sisters on a deathbed You know he cheated, took what he wanted but now you blunted Suckin up to the devil steppin down a level It's who they fear is you Who protects us from us and you from you Yes and it counts [fuck the fourty ounce] I sued them bastards, yeah they got bounce I did em like a demo {threw em out the window} I took a 98 cause I never liked a limo But pump pump pump pu-pump pump it up A mad rhyme, for mad times, that's what's up Some ain't gonna change, I got em in a range I gotta rearrange, so I'm buildin back your brain Wreckin records with funky stuff Am I loud enough? {yeah} You got ta give it up Chorus [4x]: Flavor Flav Give it up, give it up, give it up yo Give it up, give it up, gotta give it up repeat #2 -- (occasional) Chuck D vocal yeah you gots ta give it up now Verse Two: Chuck D Come again with the same old bounce I'm calling a foul and once again it counts Mad tense mad tense brothers know The blunts in the back got the black behind and that's wack [And once again it's on!] Hey Jimmy cracked corn cracker singin "I don't care", it's on I'm comin with a rhyme [what?] I'm lettin go a rhyme [yeah!] I gotta get a rhyme through the rough and crazy times Call me a Hannibal lecture, yes I checked her They don't hear me though, so here I go I'm sick and tired so Sly'll take ya higher When I'm takin his sound to bring you down Rappers rippin a lyrical kickin finger-lickin But to the rhythm I'm givin but never cotton pickin Like James Brown I'm sayin it loud Am I loud enough? Huh, you got ta give it up [Some ain't gonna change, some ain't gonna change Some ain't gonna never ever change Some ain't gonna change, some ain't gonna change Some ain't gonna NEVER EVER change!] Chorus [1/2X] Interlude: Chuck D, Flavor Flav And when I'm coming, some young dumb and fulla cum Some second guessing my lessons about saving young Some don't know like Run said so here we go Where it is inside, whoop there it is {aaaaaaah} There it is [There it is, damn right My man X is a bad mother {shut your mouth) I'm talking about Terminator, he's the man] There it is, can you hit me off with another one Chorus I never did represent doing dumb shit Some gangsta lying - I'd rather diss Presidents Dead or alive, bring em and I'll swing em I vocalize, I just rap, I don't sing em Flick em, and I fling em, you can go with em Hall of Fame for the game for the points I Dave Bing em Go Grandmama, close but no cigar I got mine, for I'm using my rhyme The flow go wherever I want, and that's clever Give a piece of my time, to prevent some crime And who behind puttin the guns to the young ones The ones that make em is the ones that take em Rugged for no reason, down in duck season I don't want my mama, on the street wearing armor So check yaself before ya wreck yaself Respect yaself, hah, you got ta give it up Chorus [4X] (fades out) |
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Huffed and he puffed
Huffed and he puffed Blew tha house down Now how dat sound Never no never Give up gotta gotta live up To my name Triple double in da rap game Cause I ain't goin niggatronic Smart enough to know I ain't bionic Wit my main man Harry Not Connick Rather rap my black ass off Getcha hooked on phonics Good enough to know no endo Thru it out tha window Along wit tha Super Nintendo I'm a strict daddy Got dat right God damn right But have a good time/Dyn-o-mite It's just that I don't talk That same ol crap (shit) Cause Papa got a brand new Bag fulla rap (hitz) The world don't work no more no more The world won't work no more Ain't gonna work no more no more My main knick knack paddy wack C'mon and give a damn Confrontational man Is what I am Is what I am I'm tearin down da house that Jack built Cause he killt whoever he wanted and hunted And tax the backs of the environment macks Who plan in da silence of the skams A world dat won't work No more/no more Mother earth gets treated like a whore And he doeth great wonders So that he maketh fire come Down from heaven on the earth In sight of men Toms to the left of me Bombin to the right World good night He got destruction In his appetite On a platter a planet To him it doesn't matter 3-2 at the plate Up go the greedy batter Environmental alarm To all not some Good God 'Cause we don't get two of em I was told that oil and water don't mix But the new world order Got a disorder And so I diss Cuss my disgust If I must One earth is da birth outta all of us And so I diss After the math Disaster wit a European autograph Gonna be bedlam If he spread em Da trigga is cocked Nowhere to flock Gonna be bedlam If he spread em Pass da word F what you heard Gonna be bedlam If he spread em Glock is cocked Now drop da props Gonna be bedlam If we spread em The day the whole world couldn't do it Repent Oh no! Check the preacher what he spent One way ticket to God to fix scars Woman and man runnin the land, sea and air poor Do we all go the way of the dinosaur? or To hell and back attack The new clear fog got us sniffin like Atomic dogs Pocket fulla pimp daddy moves Put a code on a can Whatta hell of a man, shootin Trigga pollution, planet prostitution Uprootin da third We go to the way of the bird Can't do whatcha want to da place Don't waste my place Where you from? We only got one |
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Full fledgin never sat on my legend
No shuffle or shoulder shruggin Uncle Tommin nickel and dime rhymin This renegade rippin Rugged tracks I love it Sorta black owned Like da denver nuggets Pow pow The original Harder hitter Is back in black On deck wit a turtleneck Uh ha you can drink All you want But hard don't make Da liquid matter you intake The logical Sorta psychological Brother like butter spread to one Another Thicker da blunt and got sicker Once upon a rhyme all bigger Meant was for bigga cotton picker Leave alone The men from the mice Who twice packs da gatt Turn into dirty ratts I'm comin wit the antidote, I hope they cope To da rhythm I wrote Pawns in da game Goin down da drain Final call to my race in pain |
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Microphone check
Microphone check Can I get a check up from the neck up Can I kick a rhyme While I'm checkin my time Can I get a cure Cause you did da crime For sure You're Probably killin me Wit these shots Tell me what I got And I'm gone Pandemic Who did it Right who did it That's who did it WHO/World Health Organized Murderized Came to the aid got paid Doctor doctor in a lab Concocted a germ warfare to the botty I rocked it 105 million goin down In da ground Most in da black an da brown Ow! How did I catch this riddle If I didn't crossover Like a Hardaway dribble They blamed it on some Green African money Now ain't that funky While da clock Is doin da tickin and tock I didn't know Dat da guns aimed and cocked We're runnin outta Time time Rage against Testin 1 - 2 Testin 1 - 2 Can I get a blood check testin 1 - 2 Can I get a witness? (Yes, you can) Can I get a witness? (Yes, you can) Then check it I'm checkin records and facts About da battle To da Indian, Japanese Whites and blacks Germs they spread it Warfare I read it Quote me on this yes and I said it Bet it Bigger damage than the trigger and glocks Mass murder in mass from a Blanket full a small pox No guarantees gettin lesser fees In Tuskegee blacks got shot Wit disease Please check da time C'mon check da rhyme Tribe a mine killed by da swine Who crossed da line? Who did da crime The mind of a world destroyin kind We're runnin outta Time time Rage against time Oh Ey A lil piece of mind While we runnin outta time People of color Goin out like no other kind Mad drama genetic gettin wreck Protect da neck check the epidemic Drug use, addiction and murder I heard a pregnancy Infant mortality Rest in poverty Not piece Disease till deceased Sterilized Realized That beast So here's a word to the wise We're runnin outta Time Time |
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Little piece of my heart like Janis
No Joplin But pure hip hoppin As they try to ban us Crazy flight time no jacket Or ticket Wilson Picket had soul Fat trax so the rappers Can kick it Alan freed the waves As much as Lincoln freed da slaves Its here I bleed and some Bled until dead I got the rhythm from this Headbanger Who used to fly high Now he's just hangin in da hanger Hangin around homeless In a city of no hope I can't cope Just to think See they used to call it dope |
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We got so much soul
You can damn near see it Spinnin on a 45 I've come to the conclusion Clear the confusion My point is to rock Dis funky joint Don't you know I got tangled In the Star-Spangled Banner In the middle of Alabama Or was it Tennessee or Arkansas New York and Cali got the same Amount of race rallies I know they wanna hang me Straight around the neck So I'm knockin off the hand checks So you can When I say what it is It ain't nutting but a song Krackas, killas, kidnappas KKK tries to blame it on the rappers They don't count the ones That bounce to the 40 ounce Or the runts dat get stunted By the blunts This time I'm gonna take it down the line To the ones that are ready They be holdin it steady When a song so wrong So many be singin it Strangled tangled Caught in a Spangled Banner got em on dat camera Stars I'm seein from A beatdown in a slamma Oh say can you see But you can't Uncle Sammy wears the pants Tom's his bitch When he's swingin a switch Rather stick da poor up And give it to da rich I always thought dat power Was to the people, we the people Oh say can I see we ain't people When I pledge allegiance I shoulda got a sticka 1st grade/2nd grade I shoulda just kicked a Verse in the middle of class Instead of singin bout bombs Like a dumb ass Land of the free Home of the brave And hell with us niggas we slaves That shoulda been the last line Of a song that's wrong form to get So when everybody stand I sit The red is for blood shed The blue is for the sad ass songs We be singin in church while white man's heaven is black man's hell The stars what we way when we Got our ass beat Stripes whip marks in our backs White is for the obvious Ain't no black in that flag |
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Ya took me from a place
Where the race didn't matter And gathered up bodies Without a choice So I rather Pass my opinion/back Run ya over With my rack an pinion Never stop the engine For watcha fathers did do the indian North and south Plus the Carribbean I got a vendetta Cause I know better Better black than a stereotype white No cash flow wit out work Talkin bout the past You busted our past You busted our ass Now you afraid cause I never got paid Now sucka jump You cant take whatcha want You can't take whatcha want Cause ya took whatcha want Cant get away cause we got it on tape You cant take whatcha want Cause ya took whatcha want Thin line between law and rape (scream) You can't take whatcha want Dont cha know We aint got nuttin left Cause you took the rest We aint got jazz rock and roll Rappin the lose Wit a few fat ladies left singin da blues Go abracadabra to make A wish I can mess wit Wonder why I'm under Neath a crew I cant get wit I never knew land was an acquisition BS from the best man in position Come again wit dat shit And set hit like a punk No, you cant take whatcha want You can't take whatcha want Cause ya took whatcha want Cant get away cause we got it on tape You cant take whatcha want Cause ya took whatcha want Thin line between law and rape (scream) You can't take whatcha want Cause ya took whatcha want Cant get away cause we got it on tape You cant take whatcha want Cause ya took whatcha want Thin line between law and rape (scream) You cant take whatcha want I open up the trunk I see your phony ass Try to counterfeit funk From land to land To sea to sea Allover got the other man Messin wit me Took the motherland Made a slave of my mother and man Got a good man Sayin goddamn And to hell with Back in the days Unless we go way back To the black ways Always Watch your back If ya crooked dont front You cant take whatcha want You can't take whatcha want Cause ya took whatcha want Cant get away cause we got it on tape You cant take whatcha want Cause ya took whatcha want Thin line between law and rape (scream) You can't take whatcha want Cause ya took whatcha want Cant get away cause we got it on tape You cant take whatcha want Cause ya took whatcha want Thin line between law and rape (scream) We died on the line We walk the fine line he talked a good line |
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I'm keepin a cool head
Smart and calculated Tell da skinheads what I said & they hate it One dumb move they make A mistake a turnover/going going gone And its over Shoulda thought silly rabbit Those habits'll getcha Runnin whitcha life So what some sucker snuck inside a knife But I'm checkin it out Back from a far you know Theyll never know I'm backin up An jettin to my car B4 they steal it Watch me ride an wheel it Ooh! child here it comes now I can feel it Inspiration from the situation Flowing to what I know an... This ain't nuttin but another Headline statistic, two brothers But one went ballistic Now I'm chillin beside my ride Pulled over the side Five-O ran a check Now how the hell am I suspect |
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I see I'm peeking out ready to rumble
So now I'm speaking out Against those That flip the way the story goes One never knows Who be flippin the script Whatever the traitors name My aim is dunk em like I'm Chris Webber So many phony smilin faces Traces of slander Got em comin outta funny places I had it an hear em Talkin loud behind my back What was good for the hood Is what they say is wack I take the stabbin & grin When I'm hit Cause I know the suckas smile When I leave em What I'm comin wit I cant complain about the money Although the suckas in the back They talkin shit An laughin like its somethin funny I aim to make changes An never change Unless its for the better Cause I always been a go better Clean hustler Rhyme instead of muscle ya Born when ya thinkin I'm gone The terror era is on... I stand accused To the crews I paid my dues I stand accused I refuse To stand and lose I stand accused To the news I kick da blues I stand accussed I refuse I hear em talkin & walkin Behind my back I'm attacked Fuck the knife in the back Cause it feels like they got an axe Yeah I can dig it wit a shovel I never dig dirt wit the devil Instead I'm on that other level But I took time to reach down To help the black & brown I never stood around I hear em talkin behind My mind In a ocean of sharks And a back full a hackmarks They say I'm fallin off Yeah, they better call it off & get muscle & find another hustle quick Sick n tired of critics But I can take a hit I'm all man Alley oopin the vocal on jams But they dont know it They can blow it & take a puff of dis joint I see I'm kissin it off the cuff Behind the back I'm pullin axes and blades out the arms & the legs Still my fellas get paid The terror era is on Fuck a critic/fuck fuck a critic All the fuckin critics Can get the did dit All a fuckin critic does is Draw a fuckin line Cross a line and dis my rhyme & then they ass is mine If you find a critic dead Remember what I said Who killed a critic Guess the crew did it Say paybacks a crazy ass message Sent to the writers who criticize They're fuckin wit afreedom fighter Who raises flags & dragged the klan in bodybags I hung em up in Missisippi & bum fuck This is Chuck so what the hell You think I did it for To open doors from Carolina to Arkansas And lemme let em I met em I told my boys forget em An what they did got rid of me Negative But 94 got stunts & blunts in da mix I hear the crowd fallin vic To old ghetto tricks But if I wasn't your cousin Wed leave em in the dozens Of sellin out & bellin out Half pint 40 ounce Announce to the rest We had a fall out I never took a drink Never took a hit or bribe Or got spread by what a silly Rumor said Never sang or gang banged Sold out or rented hip hop Cause I know when to stop |
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Intro
500 years ago one man claimed To have discovered a new world Five centuries later we the people Are forced to celebrate a black holocaust How can you call a takeover A discovery Mass murderer This side of the planet Most people take it for granted 502 and still doin Give a reason I'm hatin October celebratin The dead Of the black the brown and red Sick an tired Of bein sick n tired Dont jump to conclusions Before I clear the confusion Ashes to ashes, dust to dust I'm talkin bout Columbus Hit me one I dont hate nobody I hate that day Its as crazy as Hitler day Hangin heads and snappin necks Splittin up kin Makin familys wrecked Turned this planet to a sewer Provin to all just a lil grab Will do ya Or do us So my disgust Got credit from the ones that Read it Aint blind to the fact Of a whack headline And if you didn't I pay No mind That's how I feel That's how I feel This iz madd real But these days Is crazy as Hitler day I don't hate nobody It's impossible to discover a land When people are already living there Some thanks for the givin When times are hard & some got the nerve to pray to God Aint about turkey & cider that gets me sick It's that take from the indian trick Lookin pretty grim When they takin da pill From the sucker seekin somethin to kill Now he got a day to celebrate Aint that a trip Cause the indians aint got shit May 31st when it comin it hurts Remember the dead and it makes me curse When they dont include 100 million Of us black folks That died in the bottom of boats I can carry on bout the killin till Dusk & dawn And war ain't the reason they gone Fourth of July a fuckin lie When did we ever Get a piece of the pie Gotta whole day comin Without no pay Cause a fuckin job Cant gimme no play Even had enuff I huff & puff At brothers sellin the stuff Takin in washingtons Lincolns Not they birthdays Payback for em makin us slaves |
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